


death of me

by bpd_murdock



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, POV Second Person, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6359680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bpd_murdock/pseuds/bpd_murdock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i just want to say that hoo boy this piece took an embarrassingly long time to complete! i kept bouncing back and forth like "do i write it???? do i finish it???? do i post it???" because i've never written fanfic poetry before. i also haven't written poetry in like, a very long time. 
> 
> the piece is in seven parts, varying in length. it's also a spoken word piece, since i'm only trained in spoken word/slam poetry, so it was written to be read aloud (which you don't need to do ofc but if you'd like to, by all means go for it!), and with a tempo, which is why the punctuation is kind of all over the place. 
> 
> i've never published anything sw related before, so please excuse me if it's out of character or not that great. not planning on writing any more poetry, but concrit is always welcome! ♡ 
> 
> anyway, enjoy! and thank you so much for reading! ♡

I.

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to him. 

he’s young, so are you, but not as young as you used to be. 

his age is tender in his face, round cheeks, big smile

but already he has seen too much. 

he feels too much. it frightens you. 

it’s 

unbecoming. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thank you to anyone who read part one! ♡ i know it wasn't much, but i promise the rest is a little more substantial! enjoy!

II.

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to him. 

he’s older now, and he acts too quickly. 

he acts too quickly, and his fury is his sword, shield, and compass. 

it drives him. protects him. guides him. 

YOU were meant to drive him. protect him. guide him. 

he wears his anger on his face. 

it’s 

unsightly. 

and it frightens you more than you believed anything could. 

you were meant to abandon fear. 

you were meant to abandon many things. 

but in the end, all that has ever been abandoned--

is you. 


	3. Chapter 3

III. 

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you tell him. 

he’s older now, but so are you. 

and he moves quickly, his body before his brain, his matter over his mind. 

the softness in his eyes and body have gone away. 

his rage lives inside of him. it has built a home within his heart. 

the heart that you were supposed to teach him to steady, to cool, to calm. 

but you’ve allowed it to consume him. 

you are a failure. 

he wears his anger in the tremor of his jaw

in his eyes, a raging storm, glassy like marbles with unshed tears 

in the clenching and the baring of his teeth 

in the way the word “HATE” clings to the roof of his mouth, scraping up against it and leaving bits behind for him to taste and ruminate upon later. 

it’s

horrifying. 


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to him. 

his mouth is wide against yours as you swipe your tongue against his teeth. 

soothing his sores and filling the cavities that all his anger left behind. 

you love him. 

you know this. 

he loves you. 

you know this too. 

his passion dwells inside his body. 

burning, 

at the core of him. 

like lava that never cools, filling him up, and up, and up, until he erupts and it’s bursting out of him. 

you can see it in the way he fights. 

in the way he speaks. 

in the way he loves. 

it’s 

beautiful. 

but you are still afraid. 


	5. Chapter 5

V.

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to  him. 

he doesn’t need to fight you with his fists.

he can win this battle with his words alone.

and yet, as his foot connects with your face and you stumble back, you’re not particularly surprised. 

there was always something so physical about the two of you

something verbal 

something nonverbal 

something...everything. 

he lays crumbled, broken,

under a heavy, flaming blanket of all the anger you failed to protect  him from.

you

failed

to protect him

from the burning, all consuming anger inside himself.

you couldn’t teach him to sigh away his sadness.

you couldn’t teach him to kiss away his hate. 

(hindsight’s twenty-twenty, but maybe the whole kissing thing was a not-so-good, terrible, awful idea, but there’s nothing you can do about it now) 

you let him slip through your fingers, coarse and fine and hot like desert sand, 

sand that you were meant to harden into stone--

and yet all you did was shock him into glass.

glass, which was spun and twisted by the wrong hands, 

it should’ve been you.

it should’ve been you.

but it wasn’t, it wasn’t, and now his rage has grown so large that it consumes him like a roaring fire.

you cut him down.

even swipes that cut him apart bit by bit. 

each cut is harder than the last.

he finally collapses, crumbling like a pillar of sand beneath you, engulfed in his own anger. 

you think at some point he’ll burn himself out, but that fury is eternal. 

it will never be snuffed out. 

he’s going to be the death of you, you know this. 

but it seems that you will be the death of him as well.

your heart stops beating and you throw it into the fire. 

there,

you think,

as you watch it burn alongside him

you were always made to be abandoned.

it’s the truth. 

it’s 

heartbreaking, 

all the same. 


	6. Chapter 6

VI. 

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to him. 

he’s older still, and still, so are you. 

illuminated by the red-hot glow of his anger, 

as if it’s still burning its way through him--

there’s nothing left  of him to burn.

(you made sure of that.)

and yet. 

he is a coal, the hard and dark on the outside, but still scorching to the touch. 

no matter how many shells he crawls his way into 

he’ll never hold back the explosion of emotion erupting from his chest. 

you know that’s your fault. 

he moves like every step is agonizing, like every breath is excruciating--

you know that’s your fault too.

you love him. 

even now, even like this, even as he stalks around you, reminds him that you let him burn. 

that he was engulfed by his fury, by his pain.

that you just walked away. 

you love him.

even now, even like this, even as he prepares to take your life--oh, your life! your love, your life!-- 

you love him. 

you will always, always love him. 

but you were not made for love.

you were made for suffering. 

you were made for loss. 

your heart exists only to break. 

over and over again. 

he cuts you down.

it only takes one blow. 

you were dead long before this. 

you died among the scorching, steaming, melting rock of his fiery passion and his flaming fury--

among the lava and the smoke and all the love you always swallowed down until you couldn’t hold it down anymore and you vomited it at him. 

screamed it at him. 

threw it at him. 

you loved him even when he hated you

even as he struck you down and took your life--

you were 

always his. 

dying is easy. 

living was hard.

but living was worth it for the brief moments you spent by his side. 

and dying is worth it because you’re dying by his hand. 

it’s 

final. 

it’s

a relief. 


	7. Chapter 7

VII. 

“you’re going to be the death of me,” you say to him.

“i was,” he says. 

“i know."

and he looks at you then

as he looked at you before 

like you hold all the answers beneath your skin. 

like  the secrets to the universe live inside your mouth

and to know of them he has to kiss them out of you. 

breathe them in through your lungs 

slide them from beneath your tongue

tear them from your lips with the edges of his teeth. 

and you’ll give them to him, surely. 

gladly. 

“i’m sorry,” he says. 

“i know.”

“i’m sorry,” he says again.

“all is well.”

he looks young. 

beautiful. 

but still weighed down by all the emotion inside of him as he draws his eyes away from yours.

you follow them.

wherever he is 

you will always be close behind. 

and wherever you are 

he will always be somewhere nearby. 

“i love you,” he says, 

and you don’t squash it down. 

you don’t dismiss it.

you don’t push it away from you

you don’t throw it into the fire. 

you take it

and you hold it

and you keep it.

you love him too. 

he ought to know this. 

you tell him anyway.

it surprises him. 

it shouldn’t.

but it does. 

“even after all this time?” 

the question hangs between you. 

heavy. 

solid. 

“yes,” you say, 

“oh, my love 

oh, my heart 

yes. 

  
yes .

yes. ” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it is, folks!!! ♡ i hope you had a good time, and feel free to add comments/concrit! thank you! i just want to say how fun this was to write! i really missed writing poetry, so thank you for indulging me! you can find me on tumblr @pvnk-leia if you'd ever like to chat!


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